


Intervals

by therentyoupay



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentyoupay/pseuds/therentyoupay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra and Tahno, and the ten months that they've got; a once-clandestine relationship that has become increasingly less so, the continued struggle one particular new girl faces in attempting to adapt to so-called regular society, and—oh, college applications, track, Championships, and probably something about fulfilling one's destiny as the Avatar  along the way.</p><p>Life, in starts and stops, and intervals. </p><p>— Tahno/Korra, AU. The not-sequel to Personal Record. Rated Mature for language and sexual themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Jungle: Bolin's Incredible Introductory Success Guide

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Yeah. Still don't own.  
>  **Author's Notes:** _12/8/13._ Here we are, everyone. The sequel-not-sequel to _Personal Record_ , which can be found on my FFNET account. This story is ONLY intended for those who have read the completed, multi-chapter _Personal Record_ story on FFNET. 
> 
> I am excited about this story for many, many reasons, and I know I will have just as much fun writing this fic as I did with PR—if not more. ;) As I said at the conclusion of PR:
> 
> There will be no intricate plot. There will be no set number of chapters. All you can expect is a series of drabbles, one-shots, lists, and text messages from the _Personal Record_ universe, one that will follow Korra and Tahno as they finish out the rest of their year together. I will write what I want, when I want to, and no longer have to worry about connecting dots and details and other really time-consuming things. It is exactly what it looks like: snippets and scenes, moments and singular events, in somewhat chronological order. :)
> 
> So without further ado, here's an introduction, in the best way I know how...

 - **x** -

"Bolin. What is this?"  
  
"It's what we talked about! Don't you like it?"  
  
"What is it?"

"Read it!"

"I… Bolin, is this a joke?"

"What? No! Why would you say that?"

"Um. I just—"

"Come on, Korra—I worked really hard on this!"

"Um… all right. It's just—I mean, Bolin I've told you—I already _lived_ in the jungle. I was in the Rain Forest. The Amazon. That's not an exaggeration. I was _literally_ almost an Amazonian woman for a whole year. I've seen more pumas than I've seen domesticated house cats."

"Trust me—we're talking about a completely different kind of jungle here. Read it. Out loud."

  
- **x** -

**Welcome to the Jungle:**  
 _Bolin's Incredible Introductory Success Guide to Survival_  
 _In the_ _Typical U.S. Co-Educational System_

(i.e. High School/The Best Time of Your Life/Hell)  
 **  
**

**By:** The Beautiful, Bouncing, Bodacious Bolin

\- **x** -

 

**INTRODUCTION**

Congratulations! You've been successfully enrolled into one of the country's finest public schools, where you'll receive the finest education that taxpayers' dollars can afford. Instead of hunting for your own food, you'll find that something _close_ to it is lovingly served to you on a machine-washable plastic tray, day after day. Instead of wrestling with snakes and pumas, or traipsing up mountains and through forests, you'll now be asked to read thick books for long hours and battle scantrons with Number Two pencils, and the only puma you will see 

  
- **x** -

"See? Look! It's like I read your mind! Pumas!"

"Bolin, I haven't seen _that_ many pumas, okay? They aren't a super huge area of interest for us, not like some of the other wildlife we encounter."

"But you said that you'd actually looked one in the eyes before!"

"Bolin, that was like—something I mentioned to you in passing, once. You're making it seem like they _were_ as common as domesticated house cats, which they were not. And how do you even remember that, anyway?"

"So I like pumas. Sue me."

"Yeah, but—"

"Keep reading."

- **x** -

and the only puma you will see is the one stitched into the side of someone's gym shorts. Welcome to the good life! (It's sure to be grand.)

But still, you are probably wondering, "Dear Beautiful Bolin, where do we even start? There's so much to learn!" After all, compared to the world of ice caps and snowy tundra blizzards, a conventional high school setting such as this one can seem a bit overwhelming. (So many _lockers_! What do people even put in them? Why do combinations have to include so many numbers? It all seems so unnecessary.)

But fret not, dear, beautiful, young student peer of mine! If the world is your oyster, then this clam of a high school is sure to be

\- **x** -

"Bolin. You can't be serious."

"What? Why'd you stop reading?! We were just getting to the good part!"

"This _clam_ of a high school? What are you even saying?"

"You see it's—it's a play on words because the _world_ is an oyster and—"

"Never mind. I'm not sure I'll understand, anyway, even with the translation."

"Are you sure? Because, really, it's quite clever. I could draw a picture if you'd—"

"Also, what is all this talk of beautiful? You used it, like, four times."

"Technically, you have only seen it _twice_. And life is beautiful."

"Yes. Right. But—"

"Are you ready to proceed?"

"And I didn't  _always_  hunt for my food, you know, even if I—"

" _Are you ready to proceed?_ "

"Shit, Bolin—there's an entire chapter on music tastes!"

 "It happens to be a _vital_ point of interest among our generation."

 " _Hey—_ I like at least half of the bands on the Forbidden Artists lists!"

"Which is precisely why I've taken the time write a Forbidden Artists list. You are more than welcome to like any album you choose, Korra, and as a true friend I will support you no matter what, but you should know that there is a great deal of societal disapproval when it comes to—"

"You co-wrote the Texting Do's and Don't's page with _Ikki_?"

"She was very insightful."

"What the hell? A Table of Contents? Concert Etiquette? Face-painting for athletes? Recommended Movies? Holy crap, Bolin—how long is this guide, anyway? And when are we even gonna talk about the Prom stuff? I don't see it anywhere on here."

"Prom?"

 "Um. Yes?"

 "Did you say Prom?"

 "I… maybe."

 "You said Prom."

 "I _might_ have said Prom. Might have. As in maybe not. Bolin. Bolin—why are you taking out your computer? Bolin, wait. You have _got_ to be kidding me. Bolin. _Bolin—_ is that—is that a PowerPoint presentation? Bolin, this isn't funny anymore. What are you—?"

" _Hush_ , Korra. We only have seven months to prepare you for this, and if we have any hope of true understanding, even with you being a quick-learner and all, we have to start _now_."

"But—!"

" _Now!_ "

\- **x** -

It was going to be an interesting year.


	2. Homecoming Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra wondered, just for a moment, if she should have kept on the Homecoming dress.
> 
> “Text me when you’re heading over,” Asami whispered, and let go of Korra’s sleeve. It was the same hoodie she’d worn the night before, to the pep rally; it was the same one she’d packed into her overnight bag.
> 
> To stay the night at Asami’s.
> 
> “Okay,” Korra whispered back, before she stepped out through the passenger door and onto the shadowy sidewalk outside Tahno’s White Falls apartment. The car door shut with a meager thud, and Korra ignored for the billionth time the urge to contemplate why her heart was beating so fast; took two steps forward, paused, twisted, and tacked on a heartfelt, “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _11/28/15_. Can you tell that I'm trying to avoid writing my thesis for a bit? This literally came out of nowhere. 
> 
> TWENTY MORE DAYS LEFT OF GRAD SCHOOL. :O :O :O

 

**Homecoming Night**

* * *

 

Korra wondered, just for a moment, if she should have kept on the Homecoming dress.

“Text me when you’re heading over,” Asami whispered, and let go of Korra’s sleeve. It was the same hoodie she’d worn the night before, to the pep rally; it was the same one she’d packed into her overnight bag.

To stay the night at Asami’s.

“Okay,” Korra whispered back, before she stepped out through the passenger door and onto the shadowy sidewalk outside Tahno’s White Falls apartment. The car door shut with a meager thud, and Korra ignored for the billionth time the urge to contemplate why her heart was beating so fast; took two steps forward, paused, twisted, and tacked on a heartfelt, “Thanks.”

Korra watched Asami wink and drive away, the last slice of confirmation of her blessing of Korra’s plans, and Korra tried to show her gratitude on her face, but there was simply too much fluttering around in her stomach for her to do much more than stare. For a terrible, horrible, single moment of uncertainty, Korra seriously considered calling Asami and begging her to come back.

But she was  _Korra_.

So it was as Korra was grappling with the realities of just how truly inexperienced she was in the ways of being a high school hormonal youth that the rest of her resolve finally found its way back into her spine, and not a moment too soon:  _Hey,_  read the message that flashed onto her phone, _is that you who just pulled up?_

She heaved her (mostly-emptied) backpack over her shoulder with a strong arm, and hopped up the few steps to the call box.

 _Yeah, I’m down here_ , she texted back, staring intently at her phone for a response. The few seconds of silence that followed opened a whole new realm of concerns: What if he didn’t get her text? (What if his phone stopped working, or died, and he didn’t know for sure that she was outside?)

What about the make-up she’d taken off after she’d left the dance? Should she have really washed her face? (Asami had encouraged her to keep on the mascara, at least; maybe Korra should have listened, after all.) What if this hoodie smelled too much like bonfire (and rivalry and bad decisions) and triggered some horrible memory of the previous night or something, and Tahno changed his mind?

Was she being totally lazy by wearing her underarmour leggings? (Was she being  _forward_?)

She was so startled by the sound of the door opening that she actually jumped, and Tahno’s quick scoff of laughter flipped her already flip-flopping stomach at least twice over.

“Typical Fire Foxes,” he greeted, eyes dancing. “So skittish.”

Korra had intended to fire back a scathing reply, but the sight of him in jeans and a black t-shirt sidetracked her; the night before, she hadn’t been in a position to fully appreciate the first time she’d really seen him in anything other than his running gear. Considering, you know—they’d been on the run.

“Well, hello to you too,” grumbled Korra, who had the distinct feeling of  _shouldn’t he have kissed her by now?_  Nevertheless, a smirk crept over her lips. “You gonna let me in?”

Tahno, for once, said nothing: just a look in his eyes and a step backwards, and then Korra was following him before she’d even realized that he was leading her inside.

“You sure you’re all right with getting this close to a Wolverine den?” he drawled, long and familiar, placing a hand on the lowest peg in the railing of the spiraling stairs. As he rounded the landing and started the trail upwards, he jibed, “You reek even more strongly of school spirit than you did last night.”

“Must be all that victory,” Korra quipped, but she felt weirdly disappointed; there were so many contradictions in her tone and voice and body and mind that it was a wonder she didn’t split apart. She was so happy to see him that she was actually almost freaked out by it— _okay, maybe actually pretty freaked out by it, honestly_ —but she was also feeling the usual annoyance she felt whenever he gave her crap for no reason (which may also be part of that fondness, but she wasn’t really sure) which was exacerbated by the fact that she apparently was not currently capable of coming up with any sort of decent come-back. (And also, it wasn’t like she expected them to like,  _jump_ each other the moment she walked in the door or anything, but hadn’t they just spent the better part of the early afternoon practically wrestling with one another on the forest floor of the arboretum,  _like—?_ )

Tahno’s laughter trickled down, sparking up another flutter of nerves and excitement. Hesitations and confusions aside, there was an undeniable bounce in her step as she followed him, and her energy was starting to feel like a separate being all its own. (Would it be weird if she asked him to go for a late-night run with her—?)

“So,” he cleared his throat when he reached the second landing. “You ended up dancing with the locals, after all?”

“Locals?” Korra quipped, letting herself feed off of the bright burst of playfulness in her chest as she catapulted up the stairs. “I seem to recall one of  _those_  declining my invitation this very afternoon.”

(This was so weird: Tahno seemed very much the same, and yet totally unrecognizable;  _was_  it okay for her to kiss him now? Just because? Why hadn’t he kissed her yet? Before tonight—this afternoon—last night—she’d never quite fully allowed herself to imagine how much she liked the form of his shoulders, or the tilt of his walk—especially from behind.)

(There was an inappropriate running joke in there somewhere; Tahno would find it.)

“I’m sure whoever they were, they had much more important things to do,” Tahno replied with a rather haughty glance over his shoulder, before stopping at an apartment door that Korra remembered very, very clearly.

“I’m sure,” said Korra warmly, distractedly, as she eyed the t-shirt and jeans (and bare feet?) once more, and realized that he’d probably been home, waiting for her—for hours—since the moment he dropped her off at her uncle’s house that afternoon. After they’d practically mauled one another in the park. Just saying.

“Here,” Tahno opened the door and gestured for Korra to step inside, extending a hand towards the small, open space of the living area. Another strange flock of butterflies kicked up a fuss in her stomach, but Korra ignored them, and focused on the springy restlessness that kept her on the balls of her feet. She walked into Tahno and Narook’s small living room space, took note of the couch with a bright flash of interest, and turned back to Tahno, to share her amusement and anticipation.

Except Tahno was still in the doorway, pointedly looking at a spot on the far wall.

“Does Narook always close?” Korra asked curiously, stepping further inside and dropping her bag against the side of the couch. It wasn’t exceptionally large, she noticed.

“Every night,” said Tahno, closing the door behind him, and dead-bolting the door. Korra watched curiously; none of the houses in Tenzin’s old Victorian neighborhood had any sort of special latch. “Water?”

Korra blinked. She’d already been inside his apartment for at least twenty seconds; they should have at least kissed by  _now_.

“Yeah, sure,” she shrugged, and reluctantly distanced herself from the vicinity of the couch.

The kitchenette was as tiny and as haphazardly clean as she remembered, which brought a delicate smile to her face. Tahno clearly noticed, if the high arch to his brow was anything to go by, but he only went about his business quietly, taking two glasses and filling them up at the tap. When Korra reached out a hand to take her glass of water, her too-long sleeves nearly got in the way.

The first sip was all right, but by the second, Korra was ready for some serious fight or flight. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“So,” Korra slipped out, cupping her glass with both hands. “What have you been up to all afternoon?”

A wave of relief hit her with frightening force when his expression turned wry. Finally.

“Is that your way of subtly interrogating whether or not I had a legitimate excuse for not throwing myself to the wolves?”

“Don’t you mean foxes?”

Tahno swirled the water in his glass. “I’m pretty sure I meant  _wolves_.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re called  _relatives_.”

Tahno’s smile had a dry, bitter twist. “I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing.”

Korra rolled her eyes, but quieted at the weird sense of discomfort she felt growing in her gut. The tiny, nagging pebble of uncertainty was starting to feel like a decent-sized rock. Or a small boulder. Maybe granite?

She shrugged and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, feeling a bit at a loss. The water was cool in her glass, but her limbs felt stiff and strange. She couldn’t just keep waiting for the awkwardness to go away.

“Is this weird?” she wondered aloud, sincere and honest and brave. “This feels weird.”

“Is what weird?”

Korra tried to hit him with a flat stare, but he wasn’t taking the bait. She couldn’t very well  _will_ the awkwardness away if he wasn’t going to cooperate. She tried to think about what this might be like for him—after such a stressful week, and a dramatic Friday night, and an arguably-equally-just-as-dramatic afternoon, and not competing in that morning’s race, and not running for a whole  _week_ , and then having so much change so quickly all at once and having his title restored and his name cleared when he least expected it, and he still had a black eye on one side of his face and a shiner on the other, both courtesy of  _her_  survival instincts and muscle memory, and after a week of little to no communication and  _horrible_ communication at best, they’d only seen each other that day for, like, an hour and a half at most before she ran off to go spend time with her friends and relatives and go to the dance and—

She suddenly had the desperate need to know if he’d still eaten Spaghetti-O’s that week.

“I’m sorry,” Korra blurted suddenly, because she meant it. She really, really did. “Again. And not just for what I did, you know, but for everything that happened—this week and last week and last night and this afternoon and—”

“New girl,” he interrupted, pointedly setting their glasses of water on the countertop, and Korra braced herself for another argument—about what, she couldn’t guess—because it  _felt_ like the start of one, all prickly and fierce and familiar, until she felt her face in his hands and his breath on her mouth, and he said, “Shut up,” and she did.

//


	3. Mischief Night (Cabbage Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> American traditions were so weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _10/3/2016_. This one is for [poorlifedecisionsemily](http://poorlifedecisionsemily.tumblr.com/), who requested: "autumn tahnorra prompt (high school AU/Personal Record-verse, I guess?): Tahnorra and Korra go TPing before homecoming/Halloween/some other event and almost get caught. Or maybe they do get caught. Bonus points if other pranks, such as forking the yard or Saran-wrapping a car, also occur." I'm accepting requests on [tumblr](http://therentyoupay.tumblr.com/)! ♡
> 
> Also, please note: I am arranging these ficlets in chronological order according to the _Personal Record/Intervals_ timeline! This ficlet may or may not have been written before/after the drabbles and one-shots that follow. If you are curious as to when they were physically written by me, please check the dates listed at the start of every Author's Note. Thank you! :)

 

 **Mischief Night**  
( _Cabbage Night_ )

* * *

 

 

“So, wait—why are we doing this tonight if it’s not actually Halloween yet?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped up to meet hers; Korra tried not to hop on the defensive—and failed.

“ _What?_ ” she hissed, trying to maintain the cardinal rule of mischief, which was to _stay quiet_. They weren’t really anywhere that required quiet yet—Asami’s mom’s garage was definitely not one of those places—but it didn’t hurt to practice, okay.

Korra went on: “People don’t _do_ this stuff in Argentina, okay! Maybe in Buenos Aires you’ll find a couple of people with carved pumpkins in their windows or something, and a few bars will have a costume party for the younger patrons, but that is _it_ , okay, most people where I’m from can’t stand the globalization of a pagan holiday that emphasizes trickery and—”

“Korra,” Tahno cut in, one hand full of freshly sorted plastic forks. “Do you want to help us string up your cousin’s tree with toilet paper or not?”

Korra was not impressed with his impatience, and her deadpan made sure to share so. They totally took for granted that this was _their_ custom, their sort-of holiday. She didn’t know this stuff!

“Well— _duh_ , man,” she half-snapped. “But I’m just telling you—this is _not_ normal in other parts of the world, okay. This is some pretty weird shenanigans you guys have. And I am _all_ for it, but still, like. It’s weird. But again—all for it.”

“Hell YES, you are!” crowed Bolin, who is promptly shushed by all three of them. “Whoops,” he whispered, grinning.

There were a few more minutes of supplies inventory—in which the four of them worked and walked and opened boxes around Asami’s mom’s garage and chatted and got their stuff ready. Bolin occasionally took a break every few minutes to admire Asami’s mother’s collection of cars. Asami paused every few minutes to drag Bolin’s attention back to the task at hand. At one point while Korra and Tahno were together, semi-alone, with at least three cars between them and Asami and Bolin, Korra decided it was probably the best chance she was gonna have all night to bring it up:

“I thought you were gonna invite Shaozu and Ming,” Korra whispered. She knew that Tahno didn’t much like talking about his people, or pretty much anything of his, in front of Korra’s friends. But she couldn’t really help herself.

“Maybe next time,” he dismissed, but Korra’s interest piqued: of all the languages Korra knew, she was admittedly getting pretty good at _Tahno_. He sounded tired. Maybe even disappointed.

She sidled closer, and prepared to wheedle. “Next time?” she echoed, eyes curious. “But—”

“Just drop it, Korra.”

She didn’t want to, but the thing about getting better at _people_ —getting better at _friends_ —was learning when to push, and when to nod and shrug and be grateful that they were totally making an active effort to hang out with _her_ friends in the first place, and flick them lightly on the cheek.

(She thought of Mako, at home alone or out and about with other friends or wherever he was—not hanging out with them, and for such a stupid, sad, valid reason—and knew that there was probably always gonna be more to the story than she could ever hope to learn.)

“Okay,” she said. _Later_ , she thought.

And so she turned her eyes to the supplies tank at their feet and found herself rubbing her hands together in anticipation. For her first true, genuine American Halloween— _no, no, this was not actually all Hallow’s Eve, just the… weeks leading up to it? The whole month of October, maybe?_

“So tonight—is this what’s called Mischief Night?”

“No, no,” Asami whispered back, unwrapping another roll of toilet paper. “We’re way too early for that. Mischief Night is the night right before Halloween.”

“ _Or Cabbage Night!_ ” Bolin chimed in, through an overly-loud, carrying whisper because he was at least five paces away with a few cardboard boxes full of plastic forks between them. “ _Which is what Coach Tenz calls it… because he’s_ old _!_ ”

Korra made a face. American traditions were so weird. Interesting, and fun—but weird.

“We’re just getting a little headstart is all,” Asami smirked, ripping open another cardboard box. Korra didn’t really know where someone purchased over four thousand plastic forks from, but if it meant making socially-acceptable mischief on Iroh’s front lawn according to Asami’s budget, then she was _all for it_.

“Okay,” Tahno announced decisively, in that authoritative way that used to annoy her _so bad_ when she heard it on the warm-up field or at the starting line box—(and who was she kidding, it still annoyed the hell out of her, no matter how long they’d been friends-or-more for)—but it had a really, really nice thrill to it, when he was using for Non-Mischief Night operation tactics.

(She didn’t mind it in other uses too, for the record, but that was neither here nor there—and he and she were definitely not _there_ , not yet, because Bolin and Asami were with them too and Korra had to stay focused, this was a _mission_ , all right, no time to lose focus, nope, no time—)

“—Asami on Team Getaway Car, which brings us to official TP Tossing Team. Bolin has the better arm,” he admitted, very nearly begrudgingly, “so Bolin will take main TP responsibility, and Korra will decide and support whichever operation element requires additional assistance.”

“Okay,” Asami nodded, just once, with Determination; a lot of fire and passion could go into a single nod, Korra was learning, especially if it was in relation to serving as the one and only Getaway Car Driver. Korra had never needed a getaway car before. _A sled, maybe, but not really ever a_ —

“And I’m on Fork Duty,” he declared, finalizing all the details. “Let’s go.”

“ _Break!_ ” whisper-yelled Bolin, raising his hand high from the center of the new standing circle they’d made, conducting one quarter of a team cheer. “What! Come on, guys, that was so lame! Again!”

“We’re wasting time if we stick around here any—“

“What’chu complaining about Wolfy Team Captain— _Break,_ I said!”

Korra nearly cried with the effort it took to restrain her laughter, but even as they all placed a hand inside the circle and rose it up high to the half-assed chorus of “BrE _AK_!” led by none other than Bolin; as Tahno’s expression ran so flat and dry she thought he might faint from dehydration; as Asami practically jittered with restless energy to get started her assigned joy ride across town to effectively trash her maybe-sort-of-crush’s front lawn while he was briefly in town and on the way home from the airport—

Korra decided she was really, really glad she stayed.

 

//

 

Four hours and (more than) four cups of hot chocolate later—with extra, extra whipped cream (“Meelo, do _not_ put the spigot in your mouth, you _animal_ ”)—Uncle Tenzin walked into the kitchen to visit where the four of them sat around the table. Meelo made four-and-a- _half_ , but he was really only there for the whipped cream, so she wasn’t sure that counted.

Aunt Pema had given up on making hot chocolate by the cup and had simply left the pitcher of steamed milk for them directly in the center of the table, for them to refill and re-pour as necessary. After what they’d gone through, the necessity was very hefty indeed.

Tenzin silently eyed each of them in turn, but stared down Korra for the longest of them all, certainly. Tahno noticeably stiffened under her uncle’s stare, but to both of their credits, no one other than Korra might have even noticed. Tenzin, for all his spiritual mumbo-jumbo of giving people second chances and _room to grow_ or whatever, still hadn’t really gotten used to the idea of the captain of the Wolverines hanging around a bunch of Fire Foxes—and tonight, in his kitchen, no less. Tahno wasn’t really sure what to do about it, either.

As somebody who was pretty much already so used to the combining and shattering and joining of many worlds together—she appreciated how much they tried.

“Iroh called me,” said Uncle Tenzin, in a slow voice that sent Meelo on alert and practically running out of the room—even though the little rascal _clearly_ had no idea what was coming, had no idea what he could be in for. For all Korra knew, the little monster hadn’t even done anything. (He probably did, but as long as no one told her, she _knew nothing_ and would stand by her deniability.)

He had, however, taken two of the three available whipped cream canisters with him.

“Did his flight go okay?” Korra asked curiously, taking a sip of her delicious hot chocolate. Definitely needed more whipped cream. _Damn you, Meelo._

“His flight,” said Tenzin, utterly deliberate, “was fine.”

“Is he coming to the meet Wednesday afternoon?” asked Asami, whose eyes glittered so much Korra practically choked on her hot chocolate. Bolin casually reached across the table to wipe the whipped cream off her nose, all the whlie still drinking an enormous gulp from his own cup. Tahno glared a mild glare at the both of them; she had a feeling it had more to do with the two of them making a mess than anything else, though, which was a marked improvement.

“He’d like to,” Tenzin answered mildly. “He has… a few things to take care of before he can get a hold on his schedule.”

The room fell silent, save for a few slurping sounds on the part of Korra and Bolin, and the slight hiss-screech- _scroosh_ of whipped cream being swirled atop the warm goodness in Tahno’s oversized mug.

Tenzin stared, unblinking.

“You’re not going to tell me,” he announced, with the voice of a son borne by Katara, sired by Aang, raised with Kya and Bumi. The voice of a man who _knew_.

Tahno’s expression was so blank he practically looked like a zombie. Bolin, the terrible liar, couldn’t quite fully keep himself from grinning—it kept breaking onto his lips, and back, and forth, and back, and until he looked like there was a small animal crawling around inside his mouth, trying to break out. Asami, the fox, smiled like an angel, and she pretty much looked like one, too. Korra turned back to her uncle, and looked him straight in the eye.

“Hot chocolate?” she offered.

He held her gaze for a full three seconds more. Sighed, and lifted one of the empty cups on the table that the kids had left behind. He extended it forward, and Korra filled his cup with a small grin of victory.

Tenzin eyed each of them again in turn, making sure to hold each stare _just_ long enough to create a sense of discomfort. And then he dryly announced, “I stand by my deniability,” and escaped the kitchen with all due dignity, and Korra laughed so hard she got whipped cream all over herself again. Asami giggled indelicately, and both Bolin and Tahno grappled _loudly_ to find a hand towel to address Korra’s mess, and Korra couldn’t help thinking to herself, over and over again,  _This isn’t even Halloween yet_ , and _I could really, really get used to all of this,_ all the time, always.

_But… I’ll make do with a year._

 

//

 


	4. Late October (Sleepovers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _10/8/2016_. I'm accepting requests on [tumblr](http://therentyoupay.tumblr.com/)! ♡ This one is for the nonny who requested the following: "i loved the tahnorra ficlet u added! could you do tahno/korra/asami (or tahnorra or korrasami, if u don't ship poly pairs or ladybug /any pairing/ if u don't wanna write lok again) with the prompt sleepover cliches: makeovers, pillow fights,cheesy movies and even cheesier nachos, and a cute fluffy ending of cuddling?"
> 
> THANK YOUUU! ♡ For both the support and the prompt! When I started thinking about this one, I was really aiming for a tahkorrasami ficlet, or maybe even an adrienette drabble, but the truth is that i wasn’t quite ready to be finished with the _Personal Record_ universe just yet, lol. So here’s another quick _Intervals_ snippet! Probably the last one for a little while, because now I think I’m finally ready to dip back into other fandoms and pairings! ♡
> 
> This one isn’t poly romance, but one of the things I love most about these hooligans is their precious, precious friendship-team. (

 

 

 

**Late October  
** _(Sleepovers)_

* * *

 

 

“Okay,” Korra pointed, jabbing her index finger through the air towards each item on her list. “We’ve got: blankets. Pillows. Water bottles. Fresh-baked cookies. Meelo- and Ikki-proof locks. Phone’s are charging. Ready-to-microwave popcorn. Coffee—though I don’t really think we’ll need it—hey. Should we have more food than this? I feel like Ikki’s sleepovers usually have more food than this.”

“This is plenty.”

Korra turned her head to take stock of their nest on her bedroom floor. Asami was already atop a territory of blankets, lying across a pillow that she hugged to her chest and used as a chin rest. Asami was practically propped up on it, watching Korra’s inventory with amusement. She looked very tired.

Korra looked back at the supply chain.

“We need more.”

//

“Hey! Sorry, I promise I’m on my way, just left the apartment, I _swear_.”

“No, no, it’s totally fine. Could we bug you to make a stop at the grocery store on your way over, though? We’ll totally pay you back.”

“Yeah! Sure, cool beans, no prob, wha’dya need?”

“Um. I’m not actually sure? Maybe something we can _make?_ Asami is like… so… I don’t know, man, we just need a whole bunch of stuff, whatever you think will help.”

“Why don’t we just bake a pie? _WAIT_ —why don’t we just bake TWO pies?”

“I mean. We... _can?_ What kind of pie? Or kinds.”

“What kind of—Korra! It’s autumn in New England! What _kind_ of pies do you think we’re baking?”

“Bolin. What kind of pies.”

“Apple and pumpkin. _Definitely_. It’s fall! It’s _October_.”

“Okay, so we’ll bake some pies and—”

“Wait. _WAIT_.”

“What?”

“It has just occurred to me—hold on, I have to pull over to the side so I can—it has just _occurred_ to me… have you ever carved pumpkins? Baked apples? Gone apple picking? Made your own spiced apple cider? _Dipped_ apples in the gooey melted goodness of salted caramel?”

“I… am not sure how I should answer that? Have you pulled over to the side of the road yet?”

There was a screeching noise on the other end of the line, one that had nothing to do with tires. She feared for Bolin’s vocal chords.

“Don’t you _dare_ move from that house,” he ordered. “I’ve got some seriously important errands to run. And Korra?”

“…yes?”

“I am going to be _late_. Later. Later than I already am. I will be there soon, JUST HOLD ON.”

_Click_.

“Oh... kay?”  


//

“So Bolin is bringing more food, from what I heard?”

Korra stood at her kitchen countertop, staring down at her phone in awe. “I’m not really sure what he’s bringing, to be honest,” she marveled. “But he’s bringing it, whatever it is.”

Asami smiled into her sip of chai tea. Uncle Tenzin had practically been beside himself with pure, barely-contained joy to make it for her, to find yet another human who enjoyed it—especially since Korra made absolutely no effort at all to hide how gross she thought it was. 

But now Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Pema were gone for the evening, enjoying a rare date night before the baby would come and make date nights even rarer, and the kids were with Granny Katara until the following afternoon. For the time being, it was just Korra and Asami at home, just the two of them. The other members of their troop were _late_.

Or missing in action.

Korra stared down at her phone some more. _Maybe I should call him?_

“Is he taking the car?” Asami interrupted Korra’s thoughts, and it took her a moment to realize that who Asami was referring to wasn’t the person Korra was thinking about. “Mako’s?”

Korra’s lips twisted to the side. When it felt safe to do so, Korra revealed, “Bolin said he let him borrow it for the night.”

Asami and Korra both let this piece of information twirl over in the air a few times, so thick and awkward that they could almost see it, mingling with the trail of hot steam rising from Asami’s cup of un-delicious tea. The weight upon Asami’s shoulders tonight was already heavy enough as it was, but now Korra was starting to feel it, too.

“That’s it. We’re baking the damn pies.”

//

The night looked a little something like this: two pies, three high school athletes, and a lot of mixed opinion on exactly what constituted a ‘ _pinch of powdered sugar’_. Four cups of hot spiced cider—or what Korra called ‘ _glorified apple juice_ ,’ which was absolutely delicious but was still exactly as she called it—half a dozen apple cider doughnuts, and a whole bag of apples, peeled, chopped, and layered elegantly with cinnamon sugar inside a store-bought pastry crust that was just close enough in texture to remind Korra of making homemade empanadas with her mom.

It felt good, felt _great_ , to take a rolling pin and whack the hell out of a plastic bag filled with graham crackers, even when she did her job a little _too_ well and the whole thing exploded open after one particularly well-placed strike. Asami absolutely glowed under the amusement of following Bolin’s _very specific baking instructions_ , and watching as Bolin scolded Korra for, well. Just about everything.

“Korra, that’s too hot! The pie plate just came out of the oven, come on, _you can’t touch fire!_ ”

“Korra, how good are you at multi-tasking? I need you to focus on one. thing. at a time!”

“Korra, don’t blow on the food in the pan, just wait for it to cool on its own!”

“Korra—”

“Korra?”

“Korra!”

“ _What!_ ” she snapped, mouth full.

“Save some samples for the rest of us!” he reprimanded, then shoved an unwrapped caramel soft-chew cube into his mouth, exactly as she had done. “See? They’re perfect, and now I know too.”

“Of course they’re perfect, you just unwrapped it out of the bag from the store!”

“Yes, yes, but now I _know_.”

As Korra let out a groan into the busy kitchen space, Bolin stole another caramel.

//

The pies were, of course, delicious. Ice cream and whipped cream and caramel drizzle and all good things she should probably not be having as they neared their peak performances of the season, but whatever. Tonight was a special occasion, even if the reason for it sucked.

When at last she felt like she a had a moment to step away—Asami and Boiln were preoccupied with washing a few of the dishes and were readying themselves to select the first movie for the evening—Korra made the call.

“Hey,” she greeted quietly, keeping her voice low even though she was in the other room. “What have you been up to all day? I thought you were gonna text me after the meet.”

“I did,” said Tahno, in the way that told Korra he was busy with something else, half-distracted and fidgety. “I beat my time.”

“Yeah, I know, and I said ‘congratulations’. I thought you were gonna come over?”

“I’m still making PRs after a shitshow of a suspension and a total lack of running motivation for almost a week, even with a sloppy and rushed reinstatement back onto the team, and all I get is a lame _‘congratulations’_?”

“Whoah, man, I meant what I said.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean it’s still not pretty lame.”  


Korra made a face, didn’t matter if he couldn’t see it. “Um. Next time I’ll have a banner ready? A celebratory llama?”

“ _What?”_  


“I’m happy for you and I told you so, stop being so greedy. Is your medal not shiny enough for you or something?” Korra sniped and huffed, then thought better of it. “Okay, wait, I’m sorry, I know it’s not really about that. You can be mad or whatever if you think it’s late in coming, but I’m telling you that I’m really glad you did so well, and you know that, and I would like to be able to _tell_ you, in person. Like, at my house. Which is why I didn’t go all up in arms over text, because I figured I’d see you later, anyway. Which I still _could_ , if I knew what your plans were for the evening?

Tahno’s scoff of laughter didn’t sound too bitter, but he definitely had stuff on his mind. Korra withheld a sigh. He could be such a drama queen.

“I thought you were doing the thing for Sato tonight,” he acknowledged, clearly trying to sound preoccupied with whatever it was that he was doing. “Her ‘Distraction and Support Group’ night, or whatever you called it. The team thing.”

“It’s not really a _team_ -team thing,” she countered. “The team gave their well-wishes today at the meet. This is just us. _Our_ team.”

_Which you’re sort of a part of_ , she hoped was implied, but Tahno’s still real particular about when or how he responds to things he felt like he was being dragged into, so she left him to come to that conclusion on his own.

When he didn’t go on, Korra bit her lip, and added, “Mako’s not coming, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No,” he answered. “I didn’t think he would be.”

Which, okay. Ouch. That sort of hurt, and maybe a little more than it should have. So everyone _knew_ Korra and Mako weren’t talking, and the last place Mako wanted to be was (a) near Korra or (b) at her Uncle’s  _house_ , where she _lived---_ but this was Asami they were helping out tonight, and that, Korra believed, made it different. Mako and Asami weren’t as close as they used to be, but they were still _friends_ , weren’t they? Even if he was sort of (really, though maybe not as badly) disappointed with _her,_ too? 

Like, okay: maybe the only one Mako was really willing to tolerate at this point was his brother, she understood that, but just because they got into a huge, monumental, awful firestorm of a fight didn’t mean that he should just blow them all off completely, right? For weeks? Like they never mattered at all?

There were still teammates, even if they couldn’t currently be considered friends.

Besides, it wasn’t like they ended up at Korra’s uncle’s house tonight just to make an excuse for him not to come or anything. Asami just didn’t want to be at either of her parents’ houses tonight and it wasn’t like they could have hosted their shindig at _Bolin’s_ place, obviously—

And it sort of hurt, was all, that Tahno could say such a thing so clearly and simply, that of course Mako wouldn’t take part in this tonight. No matter how many of his old friends were involved, or his first love, or his brother’s wishes, or her hopes that one day maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward anymore, and that he could sort of find a way to forgive her. Not necessarily for where she is. But maybe for how she acted to get there.

“Okay,” Korra sighed, picking herself back up. “So it’s not Mako. You know it’s only Asami, Bolin, and I here, right? It’s super chill. We’re not even really doing anything, except for the pie-baking and the apple-cutting and like, other crazy stuff that I’ve never really known about until this night.” He was so quiet. “Tahno, I am totally rambling here, you gotta get me to stop.”

He hesitated.

With words carefully chosen, Tahno said, “I don’t think she’s gonna want me there.”

“Tahno,” Korra countered immediately, eyes widening. “I’d bet ten pesos that there’s at least _two_ reasons why you’re being ridiculous, and I’d bet another twenty pesos that I can kill each one of them in the next three minutes.”

“Dollars, Korra. It’s _dollars_.”

“Firstly—Asami likes you. If I have to drag you to every single late night slushie run or every trip to the park or practically every hangout night or weird as hell prank adventure to prove it to you, then we totally will. She doesn’t think you’re a slime ball, like I used to—”

“Nice.”

“And she enjoys your company, even when your ego and your blatant mistrust of humanity is borderline obnoxious.”

“Wow, yeah, I definitely want to come over now—”

“And secondly: she doesn’t want you to feel bad about what she’s going through either,” Korra interrupted, clear and firm, even though for some stupid reason her heart started to pound in her chest. It rang in her ears, thicker and fuller than the silence of her brief pause. “It could have been anyone on the other side of her dad’s selfishness, and Asami doesn’t attribute any of what’s happening to him—to you.”

There was shuffling on the other side of the phone. She imagined that he was in the kitchen, maybe fiddling with the sink faucet. Maybe he was in the living room, lying on the couch. _I could ask_ , she thought, and although it really wasn’t the time or the most important thing at hand, there is a small piece of victory in the reminder that these liberties were within her power. Within the terms of their friendship, or more, or whatever they were calling themselves these days.

Korra went on, because he was taking too much time to mull it over. “His appeal hearing for his expulsion from the Board was at three. Asami’s beat, and she could really use a whole bunch of loud-mouthed distractions. I’m pretty good, but I’m comfortable enough with my ability levels to know when I need to ask for help. Or call in reinforcements.” She paused, waiting to see if he would rise to the bait. “Bolin has already been here for two hours, but Bolin and I are too alike. There’s too much good cheer and not nearly enough sarcasm. Bolin’s already had a third of our overall caffeine supply so he’s way too hyper to activate the full capacity of his sassiness, which just leaves me to pick up the slack as we make fun of old movies—and I already pretty much do that anyway because I don’t really understand eighties’ American pop culture or why these people always decide that basements are—”

“Just because I decided not to press charges,” he said, cutting her off. “Doesn’t mean that I still don’t think about it.” The heaviness of that statement seeped out from the phone, into her lungs, out into the space surrounding her body. “Or that—sometimes, I wish I had.”

A few moments passed. Korra shifted her weight, until her shoulder eventually found the nearby wall, and she let herself rest up against it. He was waiting for someone to tell him what he did was wrong. Or right, maybe, who knew.

“She would have understood, either way,” Korra looks out the window, at the distance between the scarce street lamps. “She doesn’t blame you for anything.”

Tahno didn’t answer. “Do you blame _her_?” Korra asked, because maybe it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“No,” he snapped. “That’d be dumb.”

Korra shrugged. “Then come over.”

//

“Dude, Bolin, this pie crust turned out pretty cute.”  


“Puh- _lease_ ,” Bolin huffed with pride, passing out another helping onto each of their plates. They’d given up on putting the gallon of vanilla ice cream back in the fridge between servings, so now it simply stood in the middle of their ice cream-eating crescent at the kitchen peninsula. Bolin was taking a great deal of pride in the markings he’d carved into the edges of the crust with a fork. As evidenced by: “This pie was _crafted_ with the same elegance and care as Tahno’s eyeliner, okay.”

Korra blinked, astounded. She turned to Tahno, surprised, and blinked again. “Hey, yeah,” she mused, squinting at him. “You do wear eyeliner, don’t you?”

Asami laughed, bright and sudden. “Korra, honestly—have you not noticed?”

“I don’t know… I just… never thought about it?”

Bolin was more confused than ever. “Well, wait—what did you _think_ was on his eyes this whole time?!”

“Hey!” Korra snapped, because she was officially out of allies. “I don’t know, I said! I just thought he had, like, really thick lashes or something!”

“Oh my god,” Bolin pulled hard at his face, as Asami broke into a fit of uncontrolled giggles, and Tahno stared down _all_ of them with an unimpressed glare. Bolin was beside himself. “I’m _dying_ right now.”

“Hey! I didn’t think about it, okay!” Korra’s face started to grow hot. Honestly, what did it _matter_! “Besides, who the hell wears eyeliner to cross-country meets?!”

Asami swallowed her giggles, just long enough to smooth her voice into something wry and faintly patronizing. “You would too, if you had his impeccable wing power.”

Tahno huffed at her, but otherwise was still on his overall best behavior, all things considered. “Sato, you _wish_ your wing game was this strong,” he scoffed.

Asami’s brow arched. A sparkle exploded in her gaze, and Korra could see where this was headed from a million miles away. Asami’s voice was low and slippery, and Korra started feeling the surge of competitive blood without really even knowing why. _It’s just… eyeliner?_

“Is that a challenge, Wolverine?”

“Break out the tools, Fire Fox,” he lifted his hands. “Put your money where your wand is.”

Korra looked between them, jaw jutting forward. “ _Are_ we… putting money on this?”

“What is ‘this’?” Bolin chirped, looking up from his final, giant, distracting bite of pie. “What are we putting on? _Who_ are we putting this on?”

Asami reached over and placed a hand on Bolin’s unsuspecting shoulder. “My skills on the model Bolin against your skills on the model Korra?”

“Whoah, what?” Korra’s gaze snapped to Asami’s. “I don’t _wear_ eyeliner?”

“ _Whoah!_ Korra, please, please, please, please!” Bolin pleaded, ringing both of his hands in her direction. “You can wash it off right after if you wanna!”

She looked at him askance. “Are _you_ willing to allow Asami to draw something so close to your eyeballs?”

“Dude, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity here! I can’t _not_ take it!”

“Bo _lin_ ,” Asami’s eyes were wide. “Wow. Oh my god, I’m so... honored?”  


“And who knows, you might like it, you might not, but I have never tried it before, Korra! Pleaeeaassee? I trust Asami with my _life._ ”

It was only when Korra dragged her gaze over to meet Tahno’s that she realized she’d been low-key avoiding it. She twisted her lips again, and gave him a good stare.

“You’re not gonna mess me up, right?” she asked.

Tahno’s glare was most definitely insulted, but Korra didn’t care; she had _concerns_. “No,” he deadpanned. “Have you seen my eyelids?”

“ _Apparentlynot_ ,” Bolin coughed, and straightened emphatically, coming to stand side by side with Asami in proud solidarity. This time, Tahno and Korra deadpanned together.

“Fine,” she declared, turning back to Tahno as the surge flared up again once more. “Let’s kick their asses.”

“ _Let’s?_ Who’s gonna be the one doing all the artwork here?”

“I’m the canvas, man,” she grinned, sly and feral and a _winner_. “Don’t argue with me. Let’s do this.”

“YES—LET’S DO THIS.”

//

Seven major agreed-upon terms of agreement and conditions. A whole slew of tools and wands and sticks and crayons and powdered presses and other things that Korra didn’t really know much of anything about, except for maybe that one time she let Asami make her up a little for Homecoming—but only a little. She eyed the spread between them warily: how had an _eyeliner_ challenge turned into a full-scale war? Tahno had examined the assortment of his provided arsenal with an expert eye, and Korra sat on the couch cushion and hoped against all hope that she wouldn’t end up looking like a panda.

“I am so _PUMPED_ FOR THIS,” Bolin called out, and at this point whether it was just Bolin being Bolin, or the caffeine, or the high of spending a long Saturday night in the presence of bad movies and pies and friends—it was anybody’s guess. “We are gonna eat more pie, and watch movies, and have not only a _makeover_ , but a makeover _battle_ , and popcorn, and snacks—“

“Bolin, if you don’t stop talking you’re not gonna be able to hold still,” Asami chided and, as if to prove a point, grabbed his chin in her hand to examine his features from every angle. Bolin was effectively silenced. “Hmm,” Asami pondered seriously, which amused Korra greatly, because honestly, what could be so particular about this?

“Do you trust me not to jab you in the face?” Tahno asked, stealing her attention back from the other two seated at the far side of the couch. She was about to answer, when she noticed that he was staring pretty hard at the capsules in his hand. For some silly, inexplicable reason—she got the feeling that he was nervous.

“I mean,” she started, grappling for something clever to say. “I’ve already punched you in the face a few times. By accident,” she added hastily, at his look. “But yeah. I guess so.”

Tahno’s expression was a little too wry for her to know exactly what to make of it. She was pretty sure that she made him at least a tiny bit less worried, though. Whatever it was that he was thinking about.

“All right,” Asami nodded, true and decisive. “I’m ready whenever you are, Wolverine.”

“I’ve been ready since five minutes ago, Sato, but sure—take your time.”

“ _WAIT_ , I have prepared battle music! I have the perfect playlist for this, okay, just gimme a sec—”

“I’m still gonna look like me, right?” Korra slid beneath her breath, while Bolin loudly fiddled with his speakers and phone at the other edge of the couch. “Like… this isn’t going to be crazy, right?”

Tahno looked at her. Like really, really looked at her. “You don’t have to do this game if you don’t want to,” he told her.

“No, I know, it’s fine. And I can just wash it off later, like he said, but like.”

Tahno’s gaze zeroed in. “What if you find out that you don’t _want_ to take it off?”

Korra bit her cheek.

His eyes smirked at her, which should have made her mad, but it didn’t. Instead it made her chest all fluttery, and her mouth a little dry, and her head a little light. For as much as she’d been wondering about _his_ thoughts, he seemed to know exactly what was happening with hers.

“So then let me know,” he said, like it was so simple. And when he said it like that, Korra sort of believed him.

She stared him in the face as she braced herself with a deep, deep breath, and then she closed her eyes.

“Countdown begins in five, four, three, two—”

“I am going to look.  _so. HOT!”_

//

2AM, and Bolin and Tahno had yet to go home. Tenzin wasn’t the most conservative of uncles, but he wasn’t really the most progressive either; he permitted the Distraction and Support Group Team Party to continue as long as it was relegated the basement, they didn’t get any eyeliner on the carpet, and Asami and Bolin played chaperones. Awkward, but reasonable. Korra smiled; Tenzin was a pretty awkward and reasonable guy, after all.

And to top it all off: there was a picture on Korra’s phone that would probably merit _quite_ a bit of explanation to the outside observer. She could easily make up a story about it, but ‘ _my friends and I had an eyeliner battle and then took an epic selfie’_ was pretty good in and of itself. She was seriously tempted to make it her lock-screen.

There wasn’t even a single handful of popcorn left in the bowl on the downstairs coffee table, and four empty mugs lined its edges. The well-designed nest Asami and Korra had constructed for themselves in her bedroom ended up being for naught, because the couch and the basement floor and a few meager blankets scrounged up from the downstairs closet worked out just fine. Asami lay over the length of the couch while Bolin snuggled at the end near her feet, and between the two of them they managed to find (maybe) enough space. She and Tahno sat on the floor, leaning heavily back against the front edge of the couch, legs protected by the roof of the coffee table, and all of its leftover traces of late night activity, the mugs and bowls and all. The middle of an unfinished movie played on, and Korra took a moment to wonder: had any of them even brushed their teeth? She glanced around her, grinning. _Too late now_.

Bolin had fallen asleep an hour before, and Asami not long after that. Both of them, _all of them_ , were so exhausted from the day— _the race, news of the hearing, the pies, the_ war—but content.

Korra would like to think that they accomplished their duties as friends this evening to the best of their abilities. She didn’t know what the next few weeks would like for Asami, but she planned to be there every step of the way. She had a good feeling the reinforcements would be, too.

“This is the first time I’ve done this,” he told her, after so long of watching the movie in sleepy, contemplative silence. His eyes glanced over to where she sat at his side.

“Done what?” she asked quietly. “Had an accidental sleepover on someone’s basement floor? Watched a bad horror movie just to make fun of it?” Her grin tipped. “Watched the whole length of a movie _without_ making out during it?”

His side-eye glare sent tumultuous vibrations back through her chest. She wan’t really serious about hinting for a make-out. She _was_ trying to be respectful of her aunt and uncle, after all, and _those_ suggestedmoments were better left for Narook’s empty apartment, for the relative safety and assurance of being alone for hours at a time. But if she was angling for a _kiss_ , at least, then she could hardly be blamed for that.

(The shock was still fresh, too, of what it felt like to close one’s eyes and trust someone to touch and move and tilt and paint one’s face so easily. To grab hold of the jaw, or rest a pinky on one’s cheek, to feel the sweep of a brush against one’s brow. The only other time Korra had ever allowed anyone to even come near her with a case of make-up was the night of Homecoming. Asami had been gentle, even when Korra disobeyed direct orders to _keep still_ and _stop talking_ … but tonight Korra was mostly silent, mostly still as Tahno strategically worked.

It felt nice for her face to be touched, to be looked after, to be painted; cool liquid liners and soft brushes and firm fingertips maneuvering it all together. She didn’t complain, and she only got skittish once, with the mascara—and the rest was actually almost relaxing. Calming. And—in a surprising, confusing, pleasant sort of way—strangely intimate. _When was the last time you let anyone_ _simply admire your face? Let them touch your cheeks and your mouth and your eyelashes, and let them really, really look at you?_ )

“No,” he scoffed back, defensively, jolting her back to the present. His expression was annoyed, but Korra could tell that he wasn’t truly offended. He turned his eyes back to the TV. Clarified, casually, like it was nothing, “Never spent a whole night with friends.”

Korra watched the way the dim light from the TV screen fell upon his face. _Don’t make it a big deal_ , Korra thought, chest tight, because Tahno clearly didn’t want it to be. But Tahno had plenty of teammates, and Korra did too, but she also had a really good team of friends. No matter how many times she’d tried to glean whether he considered _his_ teammates to be friends or not, too, she couldn’t really tell for sure. He always kept everything so close to the vest.

_Not a big deal_ , she reminded herself, but didn’t try to stop herself from grinning either.

Tahno could see it all happening, and his brow was hard-pressed not to turn skeptical. He opened his mouth to retract the statement, no doubt, to kill the sentiment before it had more of a chance to take root, so Korra kissed him to shut him up, to tell him that it was okay, to say that it was nice to have friends, and spend time with them, and to be weirded out by it, too. She’d created this night for Asami, but maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea that it was for all of them, that they needed and wanted and liked it just as much.

She pulled back in time to get a clear look at the eyeliner over his closed lower lids, slightly smudged but still even and crisp and dark, and before he could retaliate, she placed her temple onto his shoulder. It was quite comfortable.

“P.S.,” Korra whispered, when the room felt soft enough and quiet enough, indistinct background noise and lighting and languor. Tahno shifted, as if coming up from half-sleep, and Korra smiled.

“What?” he whispered, groggy and impatient and content. Korra grinned wider.

“You owe me thirty pesos.”

//


	5. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's coming to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _5/25/15_. Here it is! One of the first drabbles. :) This one is for [thejerklord](http://thejerklord.tumblr.com), who requested the prompt "tahnorra (pr) + meeting the family." I'm accepting drabble requests on [tumblr](http://therentyoupay.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> Also, please note: I am arranging these ficlets in chronological order according to the _Personal Record/Intervals_ timeline! This ficlet may or may not have been written before/after the drabbles and one-shots that follow. If you are curious as to when they were physically written by me, please check the dates listed at the start of every Author's Note. Thank you! :)

  **Thanksgiving**

* * *

 

“I'm not wanted here.”

“Stop it,” Korra snapped, juggling between a basket of bread slices and a platter of cheese and crackers. “And don't just stand there—take the biscuits, for crying out loud.”

“They're rolls,” he flatly reminded, but Tahno still dutifully took the bowl from the countertop.

“Don't correct my English. And stop with the worrying—they're warming up to you, okay?” Korra glanced at him just as a chorus of distant laughter rang out from the patio, right through the long hallway, echoing from within the patio's expensive glass windows and its clean coats of white paint.

Tahno's grip on the rim of the bowl tightened; since he'd forgotten about the cloth lining the bottom, he almost dropped it.  

So when Korra reached out with full hands to save the bowl from his unnatural clumsiness--and lost a piece of Pepper jack in the process--her exasperation prickled clearly over her face. There was a whole slew of other stuff in there too, stuff he hadn't learned to read yet, but out of anything, she looked just as surprised by his sudden lack of bravado as he was.

Time to fix that.

“What?” he questioned drolly, and if he was lucky then maybe Korra hadn't learned how to read his masks yet either. His voice was long and dry when he said, “I'm a runner. My hand-eye coordination has a very certain specialization.”

“Tahno, it's nothing personal,” she grumbled, almost a sigh, almost impatient. She set down her basket to dispose of the fallen piece of cheese from the floor, still talking about how he shouldn’t be offended, or whatever, but truthfully Tahno wasn’t paying close attention. She grabbed her basket and veered toward the hall that would lead them back outside to where their dinner party had gathered. Dinner? Lunch. Whatever this was, it was a hell of a lot earlier than Tahno ever ate with Narook. Not that it mattered. He'd still be eating leftovers that night once Narook closed up shop.

“Look,” Korra was saying. Tahno blinked back into awareness. “I just come from a very... unique family. They're incredible people, but sometimes they don't always remember how... ah.  _Intimidating_ , they can be.”

Tahno halted at the kitchen peninsula, forcing her to pause in the doorway, rudeness at the tip of his tongue. “Interesting. Are you referring to your stiff cousin, who keeps alternating between formal, awkward smalltalk and mistrustful silence?”

“Tahno _._ ”

“Or your tiny cousins, who like to ask invasive questions. Or Bolin, who—what, thinks we're  _friends_  now?—what the hell? Or your great-aunt-grandmother, who keeps looking at me with this gleam in her eye like she knows she could rip me to pieces with her knitting needles, and finds the whole thing hilarious.”

“Katara doesn't even knit. She _crochets_ —”  
  
“Or the stony, barely-controlled resentment of my beloved rival coach? Who, by the way, was also one of my least favorite people in the world up until a few weeks ago.”

Korra halted, momentarily taken aback. Her head swiveled with dangerous speed, and Tahno nearly dropped his rolls again. Her voice was very, very cold. “Has he said something to you?” she demanded in a near-whisper.

For some strange reason, Tahno's discomfort took an entirely different turn. “No,” he snapped, but he was fidgeting. “He's been entirely civil.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Korra wouldn't know. Korra, who dropped herself in the middle of a war and set off running without bothering to look both ways, who didn't care about generations of rivalry or mean spirits, who couldn't rationalize or accept the nastier parts of human nature. Korra, who merely expected that she could fix anything that blocked her way, including a bad personal record, or a decades-long battle between teams. Including her own issues. Including Tahno's.

Korra, who couldn't possibly realize that, once—four weeks ago—the same man who was the bane of Tahno's existence became the same man who helped advocate for and actually  _won_  the restoration his competitor's status, who was now the same man inviting Tahno into his fancy, clean, nicely rich home for Tofurkey and biscuits. Rolls.

“Your family eats a lot of carbs,” is what he answered, instead.

For a moment, Korra merely looked at him, saying nothing. He would've liked to have kissed her, right then—and on any other day, under any other circumstances, against any surface, he would have—and just when he thought he might try for it, Korra shook her head with a smirk, and then rolled her eyes, and nodded for him to follow.

So he did.

* * *

 


End file.
